Great Minds Think Alike
by Charlie Baytes
Summary: They understand each other, because they think the same. They are labeled as dumb, but they like to think of themselves as people with different perspectives of the world. One-shot


Disclaimer: I do own nothing= I don't own anything. Enjoyith

* * *

><p><em>Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains<em>  
><em>I knew I wouldn't forget you<em>  
><em>And so I went and let you blow my mind<em>  
><em>Your sweet moonbeam<em>  
><em>The smell of you in every single dream I dream<em>  
><em>I knew when we collided you're the one I have decided<em>  
><strong><em>Who's one of my kind<em>**

_-Train_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Brittney's POV<em>**

You never** understood** Math or English. You never **comprehended** the importance of Science, or the facts of History. And learning French was the worst thing you had ever encountered. You never claimed to be smart, or witty, or even clever. But you understand and appreciate the little things.

In Home Economics, while everyone else baked their cakes, you sat there and argued with the teacher over cracking an egg. You were sure that was where little chicks lived, you were sure of it. How could someone practically break into another being's home? You wouldn't appreciate it if someone cracked open your house.

So the teacher, you don't remember her name, didn't make you bake a cake, but instead let you color in your handy –dandy coloring book you always keep in your back-pack. Everyone gave you pointed stares, but you were used to them, you got those stares every day, you even got them from Santana.

You aren't smart, and people tend to get up in that fact, and they don't seem to notice that maybe you just have a different perspective on the world, one that only certain people have-special people.

No one really understands what goes on through your head, no one understands your outburst and your random comments, and that's okay, because to be honest sometimes you don't even understand your mind.

_**Finn's POV**_

You're practically a walking cliché. You're the handsome jock, who gets all the pretty girls and dates the head cheerleader. You're popular and freshmen girls want to date you. Guys follow you around because they want to be your friend, and you love it. You _love_ the attention. You love being important, special, someone that people could look up to.

However you're also not what you would call, smart. You aren't smart, and you don't claim to be. You know you make up words, and sometimes you just say things that you're thinking about at the time. You don't know a lot of words, and sometimes you stare off into space, just thinking about outer space or what life would be like if there was no more toilet paper. People don't really understand your mind, or the way your thinking.

But then again you wouldn't call yourself dumb. _**T o n s**_ of people have labeled you as the dumb jock, but you tend to think of yourself as the jock with a different perspective of the world. The one, who notices the small things, listens to the silent sounds, stops to smell the roses.

You're used to people thinking your dumb and you're used to the sympathetic glances from Rachel, and the eye-rolls from Quinn. It doesn't bother you anymore. You know that people don't understand your mind or you way of looking at things. And it's okay, because you don't_** expect**_ them to understand you.

You really don't.

**_Brittney's POV_**

You find him in the choir room, dancing to Michael Jackson, or at least, trying to dance. He's all alone, and you can see he's really trying by the redness of his face, and the sweat dripping from his forehead. You would have thought he was lifting weights.

You waver over opening the door or not. You don't want him to be embarrassed, but you want to help him dance. You like dancing. You push open the door and at first Finn doesn't notice you. His eyes are closed and he's just dancing. Letting himself go, letting himself be a complete dork. You wish more guys were like this, willing to make fools of themselves.

When he notices you, he stops dancing and stares at you. The music continues to play in the background, adding a nice sound to the awkward situation.

"Hey." He says in a tone that one would use when trying to play off something.

"You like to dance?" You question.

"Nah, I suck at it." He replies looking at his feet. You walk foreword.

"I could help you, if you want. I'm pretty awesome at dancing. I once taught a chimpanzee to dance." You are completely serious, but he smiles at you and nods anyway.

"How did you do that?" He questions. So you tell him the amazing story of Harold the chimp, and how you saved him from an animal testing shelter. You tell Finn that Harold and you spoke to each other, and how he understood you more than anyone else.

You expect Finn to roll his eyes or laugh nervously, because that's what they _**all **_do. They laugh and make fun of you, because they don't get how a chimp could talk to a girl.

But Finn's engrossed in the story, asking you questions, and adding his own little comments in. He says he understands completely and tells you that you are a wonderful person. You laugh and tell him that most people think that the story is completely made up. He looks at you, his brown eyes curious and gentle, and says.

"Who wouldn't believe you? That story is so true. Man I wish I had a talking monkey." You laugh at him, and stand up.

"Finn Hudson, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship." He smiles, and you begin to teach him to dance.

You like his smile, it always looks genuine. You like Finn because he gets you; he understands and accepts the little things like you.

And he doesn't pity you or make fun of you, he _**believes**_ you.

And that is all you ever wanted.

* * *

><p>Fittney, one of my favorite pairings. Is it crack? I don't care, I think these two have the same brain, so why not put them together. RM makes me mad when he makes two similar characters and then doesn't put them together.<p>

Hope you enjoyed, I'm going to go put on chapstick, because my lips are chapped. I don't know why I typed that.

-Charlie


End file.
